THE FISTIC CRACK, SMITH.
Air—"The Village Blacksmith."
Before the applauding British P.
The fistic crack, Smith, stands,
Jem Smith a mighty man is he,
With smart and smiting hands;
And the muscles of his legs and arms
Stand out like steely bands.
His hair is fair, and closely cropped,
His pink face bears no tan;
His brow is low, his wits seem slow,
He "gates" whate'er he can!
But he gets more cheers than Salisbury's self,
Or e'en the Grand Old Man.
Whene'er their Champion spars at night
Excited Britons go,
To see him swing his left and right
With slogging force though slow;
And the guests are scarce a pretty sight,
They're loud and rather low.
Green youngsters scarce released from school
Flock in at the open door.
They love to see him "kid" and feint,
And pay their bobs therefor;
And if his right he does let fly
Great Cæsar, how they roar!
At length he into training goes,
Attended by "the bhoys,"
Punches the ball, pickles his hands,
With other training joys,
Which in the penny sporting prints
Abroad his backers noise,
To read the which boys about town
Esteem it Paradise;
They buy the accounts and o'er them pore,
Though probably all lies,
And to each other whisper them
With wonder-rounded eyes.
Bouncing, belauding, gammoning,
Onward the game still goes;
But whether in the fistic ring
The Champions will close,
Why, that is quite another thing,
Which nobody quite knows.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my fistic friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught.
If pugs can get a barney up,
Whereby the crowd is caught,
What matters it whether they'll fight
Or whether they have fought?
Toying with Truth.—The Annual Truth Toy Exhibition, which shows the toys provided for any number of Children in our hospitals, workhouses, and infirmaries at Christmas time, will be held at Willis's Rooms, December 19 and 20. No further intimation is necessary. When there a Will is, there a Way is.